Broken- And Fixed Again- (A Jamilton Fanfic)

Chapter 3: Fear And Love

//TW: swearing, physical abuse, mentions of rape, graphic self-harm, domestic violence, self-hatred, suicidal thoughts\\

Guys!! Please!! Send me covers or I will have to resort to my own crappy creations!!

Thomas

Fear.

Fear is ice. It's chilling. It's deadly. It's frostbite, seeping through whatever defenses you hastily set up and tearing them apart in a matter of seconds, pricking your body with a thousand, sharpened daggers until there's nothing left but blood and tears.

Fear is the sour taste in your mouth, the taste of rot and death, the taste of destruction and the knowledge that it was too late to stop it. It is the taste of running for hours but never going anywhere. It is the taste of thick, metallic blood welling up on your lips after you finally give into one hit after another, unable to do anything about it but just give up and let them come.

Fear is the creeping desire of death to finally release you from this mess of a world.

And then there's love.

Love.

Love is fire. It's warmth. And it's just as deadly. It's either the flickering of fireflies as they uncovered a forest changed by the night or the roaring flames of an uncontrolled fire rendering the forest to nothing but ash and embers burning themselves out.

Love is the dulling colors of the world around you, turning you ignorant to everything else. It's unfocused vision, colorful dots that look pretty but keep thousands of unearthed secrets cloaked and hidden by the soft hues. It's blind trust and hopeful faith, knowing that all you can do is follow the person you depend on more than anything else in the world.

Love is not just the certainty, but it's also the unknowing.

And I am tired of not knowing.

James was my world. My moon, my sun, my stars. There were moments where I hated myself for hating him, just as many moments as I wished he would just disappear. But whether he was burning ice or freezing fire, I'd never know.

All I knew was that I couldn't handle it anymore.

In a twisted, wretched way, fear is similar to love. Far too similar. Both horrid beasts are followed with the thrill of your heart fluttering against your ribcage. Both weakened your legs, setting the world around you in motion until you collapse. Both have the power to either shut you down or power you up. And both will sit back and watch as you crumble to nothingness, forgotten by the world.

So was it love, or was it fear? Or, in a cruel sense of irony, had the two been so far twisted together that I was incapable of telling the difference? Had the two become nothing more than a knot of many different strings, tangled and ruined forever?

As if prying into my thoughts and hating what he found, James slammed the dorm room door shut, sending a shockwave of that cold, dreaded fear pelting through my body like hail raining down from an endlessly gray sky. He was gone, and I was alone, and I was both relieved and horrified.

My eyes found themselves glued to the unchanging gray wall, mind wandering with the thousands of different punishments James could inflict the second he got back. I could already smell the alcohol on his breath, taste the lust on his lips as he'd shove me against the mattress, pressing closer and closer until nothing else in the world existed but the two of us and the endless stream of pain that never stopped flowing whenever he was near.

My cheeks burned with both pain and shame, a token, a souvenir of the blows and the hits he delighted in. But he hadn't stopped at physical abuse. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the endless touch of his body pressing mine against the cold, unforgiving mattress and his sharp, claw-like fingernails digging into bare skin. If I closed my eyes, I could still taste his sweet lips moving against mine, just another lie. If I closed my eyes, I could picture every detail of what he had done to me painted in full, vivid colors, taunting me with a vigor I would never understand.